A Stitch In Time
by SteelAgainstIvory
Summary: On patrol one night, Dan ends up injured. Rorschach has to stitch him up. This causes some sexual tension to bubble up… One-shot. RorschachxNiteOwlII.


**A/N:** This is sort of AU-ish. A mix between the movie and the comic world… A hybrid if you will.

**Warning:** Slight man-loving. Violence. And a bit of hurting. Awww!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned, would I need to write on the site to satisfy my urges? No, I didn't think so.

**Summary:** On patrol one night, Dan gets injured. Rorschach fixes him up. It causes some unresolved sexual tension to bubble up…

**Remember:**

"Talking."

_Thoughts/Emphasis_

Self-explanatory.

…

The night was musky. Thick pollution seemed to physically cling to the dank brick walls of narrow alleyways. Summer was quickly dying and along with it came easier targets—the nights were coming sooner and lingering until almost midmorning. The average nocturnal scumbag would have more clients to cheat, steal, and fuck over than they knew what to do with.

Despite the Watchmen finally becoming a full-fledged team now, Rorschach still preferred to dart over fire escapes with his original partner, Nite Owl (real name Daniel Drieberg). A bit soft, but the most reliable and worthy man Rorschach had ever encountered. A boy scout forever. Speaking of said Boy Scout, Dan's night specs had zeroed in on the alley just below them. The gloved hands pressed a couple of tiny buttons—how he could do it accurately was beyond Rorschach—before nodding. "You were right. Five of them, possibly another gang. I just don't get it… Er, all these gangs I mean," the second Nite Owl explained, letting his hand drop onto the ledge.

"Me either," Rorschach agreed, his rough voice placid for the moment, like before a thunderstorm. His own leather-clad hands curled over the sticky cement in a _scritch, scritch_ sound.

Exhaling, Dan tilted his head. "We're gonna drop on them, huh?"

"Smart," Rorschach sarcastically answered. Dan succumbed to the urge of a slight—manly—pout as his companion swiftly leapt from their perch and onto the unsuspecting prey below. He hit the tallest one first, then, using the thug's shoulders like stepping-stones, he traveled heavily on each gang member. Rorschach slammed the bottom of his sole on a fire escape as leverage for a well aimed spinning kick to the face of the very last one.

The pitiful wails pierced the air satisfyingly. Rorschach was fast and gritty, lying one punch after another as the thugs kept recklessly swinging. Perhaps it was drugs, the way they went one after the other, trying to hit the vigilante despite the massive amounts of their own blood spraying across the sky. A flittering happened overhead, a cape soon blocking out the streetlamps and instantly causing panic. Two of the thugs went down, bones cracking, even more blood splatting on the ground in nonsensical patterns. Nite Owl rose, catching one of the three left still struggling.

Rorschach was focused on the two wildly flailing against him. He blocked to the right and ducked to the left, using an uppercut to surprise the tall thug he landed on earlier. The thug was tossed down the alleyway. Rorschach never paid much attention to what happened when they went down.

He was working the final one, a kidney punch, and then a shattering heel kick to the sternum. Dan watched his partner who was panting and dusting off his hands… until the flash of a metal chain caught in the night-goggle's fringe vision. "Rorschac—!"

Dan had leapt up into action immediately, propelling his legs to move in the way of the tall thug's attack. A sickening sound of something heavy breaking across a cowl echoed off bricks. Rorschach twisted into Dan's falling body, keeping them both steady, while unhooking a contraption on the utility belt and pointing it at the thug without hesitation. The grappling gun hit square in the gang member's stomach. It ruptured internal organs by the squishing way the man collided with the wall. The noises were rewarding to Rorschach as Dan shifted back to his own feet. It was unsettling as the Nite Owl teetered minutely.

"You okay?" Rorschach questioned, eyes scanning Dan.

"Yeah, yeah!" he assured, brushing his head lightly, "Guy just hit me with a loose brick was all…"

A grunt was the reply and the pair looked about at the carnage. Wordlessly, they decided it was best to head back to the hideout for the night. Archie was hovering above the building they jumped from. As Dan lowered down a rope for Rorschach, the vigilante took a moment to swiftly give a fierce kick to the tall thug for an extra measure. Nodding to himself, he fixed his lapels before climbing up into the vehicle. The entire flight back was on the side of disconcerting. Daniel couldn't seem to steer straight and by Rorschach's observation, the blow to the head was still bothering him.

After tricky maneuvering, they were back in the basement under Dan's lovely home, an event even the Nite Owl was unsure of how it was accomplished. Rorschach scoped the area furtively as they exited Archie. Unexpectedly, Dan stumbled, nearly falling to the floor if not for his partner's fast reflexes.

"Careful! Already have one head injury tonight," Rorschach grunted as he aided Dan back to a standing position.

"Yeah," the partner said, a tad weakly. There was a sigh, and Dan unhooked his goggles, placing them on the worktable with a quick toss. The next move was pulling down the cowl. Dark hair was revealed swiftly, followed by a spurt of blood. Rorschach should have expected it, he didn't, and felt an immediate instinct to panic. He squalled it well, however, and quickly grabbed Daniel by the elbow, making sure there was pressure against the wound. Dan seemed more surprised than anything.

"Wait here," Rorschach ordered. Dan nodded, pressing his fingers against his scalp, wincing. The shorter Watchmen was already up the stairs and grabbing supplies from the medical kit. Antiseptic, curved needle, dissolvable thread, towel, razor, and a pot of hot water. By the time Rorschach had returned, Dan had removed the first half of his suit in a need to keep the blood from ruining it. Scoffing, Rorschach swept the worktable for a clear spot and kicked over a chair. "Sit." Dan blinked. A few seconds later he dropped into the chair, and Rorschach went to stand behind it, looking for the origin of the cut.

Injuries were not something uncommon in their line of work. Usually, Dan was a bit more careful. Sometimes, the shorter male became too caught up in the violence. The one in this chair was Rorschach on any other day; waiting while Dan stitched something back together.

Gloved hands were shifting through matted hair, then warm water was poured over the stuck locks, and the strands came apart. Rorschach hummed when he finally discovered the gash. It was against the curve on the back of the skull. He kept Dan's (thick, silky) hair parted, and clutched harshly so he wouldn't lose his place. "Get up," was the gruff demand.

"Why?" Daniel asked, he sounded a bit distant. He must have gotten woozy from the blow to the skull.

"Awkward spot. Can't stitch it up like this," he explained. Dan rose, his legs did not appreciate the movement, buckling like broken fulcrum points. Rorschach was quick however, and took a seat in the chair, guiding Daniel's head downwards. Long legs folded, and somehow, the brunet was vaguely aware that he was kneeling on the floor. Rorschach made a frustrated grunt as he tilted Dan's head to the side. "Don't like this. Still won't be easy to fix."

"Here," Dan said suddenly. Turning around, Dan placed himself by the side of the chair; ignoring Rorschach's fingers as they tighten about his chocolate strands. He laid his head down in Rorschach's lap, visage toward Rorschach's stomach. Dan's glace up at Rorschach, whose enigmatic "face" was staring down at him. Black distortions moved swiftly along the contoured plane at a steady pace. "Better?" he questioned. Rorschach didn't respond, just smoothed down the dark locks around the gash. He took off his signature gloves, and the Nite Owl caught a fleeting glance of pale, calloused hands dotted with dark blemishes. Daniel's mouth became a tight line and he closed his eyes, shivering when, unexpectedly, the razor was scouring his scalp.

Rorschach could be called a perfectionist. He made sure he was thorough, and when there was a nice, clean patch around the injury, he put the razor down and reached for the antiseptic. Lid's fluttered open softly, almost as if Dan had been asleep for a thousand years. "Don't close your eyes," Rorschach said, rough voice cutting across Dan's fuzzy mind, "Might have concussion." Dan peered up through a mess of scattered locks. He didn't bother with words, just gazed up at the monochromatic face. He hitched a breath when the antiseptic bottle came into his vision. A cold liquid was seeping over his skin. There were bubbles forming along the line of torn flesh, and soon there was a sting of bacteria dying. Daniel bit his lip, but the pain wasn't too bad. Rorschach repeated this process three times, patting the wound with a towel until only a faint line of red decorated the fuzzy fibers.

He placed the cloth on the table once more, and picked up the needle. It was second nature to thread the needle. Just as he was ready to cut the thread, he realized in his haste he had forgotten scissors. It was too late to go looking for a pair. Instead, he pulled up the bottom of his mask, revealing thin lips and square jaw. Rorschach used his canines to sever the thread from the bobbin with a practiced ease. He knotted it taunt and bathed the needle and thread in the antiseptic. After a pause, he concealed himself with the shifting mask once again. He scrubbed his hands in the pot of warm water just to be on the safe side. With a sigh, the vigilante took up the sewing needle once more.

"Won't lie. It _will_ hurt," he murmured. Daniel smiled ruefully.

"If you can take it, I can take it," he answered, almost fondly. Rorschach's naked fingers embedded themselves in the dark hair (as always, the contrast of light and dark was a most beautiful thing). Nothing was said; he placed the needle at the farthest point away from him… then pushed in. Daniel made a whimper, nearly jumping at the shock of pain. Rorschach did not continue the action, he should have, but was certain Dan would thrash and possibly tear open his head further.

"Stay still, Daniel," he said, trying to be soothing. Hissing in pain, Dan grasped onto Rorschach, hands fisting on his striped trousers. They trembled, and Rorschach had to avert his eyes for reasons he would discern later. "Going to start again…" Dan let in a deep breath and held it; Rorschach continued to bring the needle through the layers of skin and out once more. He pulled the thread through as delicately as he could allow. The man in his lap was forcing his head into the wiry flesh below his cheeks, as if he could escape the bite of the needle.

Rorschach wanted to end this procedure, simply to make Daniel stop mewling in pain and pressing against him. But, he had to make sure that the sutures were even and tight. He had to do it right, or something bad could happen. Stitch number four was when Dan began breathing heavily, moist and hot puffs traveled through the fabric of Rorschach's pants. It caused Rorschach's gut to clench ridiculously. There was only five more to go. Just _five_. He had to disregard the sensations. The needle dug into the scalp a bit more fiercely, and Dan reacted with another breath and a noise Rorschach only recognized in the context of a pleasured whore. It _wasn't_ pleasure though, merely a noise.

On number seven, pulling the thread through, Dan moved his head by a fraction. The tip of his nose slid along Rorschach's inner thigh. "Don't do that," tumbled from his mouth without thought. Dan looked up, eyes clouded.

"Rorschach…" a breathless plea. Rorschach could have leapt to his feet at the way his body became heated at the tone, the implications. "Please…please? Faster?"

"No," he said. This time Rorschach used the needle to rid the baser urges arising within him. Dan's eyes screwed up tight. Rorschach refused to watch. He was not going to let this thing simmer in the pit of his belly any longer. By the time the last stitch was made, both felt drained. Daniel was panting softly and the man above him went slack. Fingers in the deep brown hair untangled themselves and rose to lift up the altering face. Those lips appeared, and Dan gazed up with half-mast eyes. Rorschach bent low, and the Nite Owl felt his eyes widen without consent. The lips were coming closer, swooping down with purpose, and Dan was frozen waiting…. But they never touched his skin. Pale lips opened and there was a slight tug on the thread, enough to make Daniel gasp. Warm breath ghosted over him, with the scratch of stubble on his cheek.

Rorschach lifted a little, making the final knot with deft hands. He inspected it lightly with a sweep of his hard pads. Satisfied, he rested against the back of the chair. Dan relaxed, all his muscles going to jelly. His hands uncurled, palm smoothing down the wrinkles in the stripped pants. Rorschach cocked his head to the side. He straightened and let his uncovered hands traverse through the damp strands of chocolate lazily. Dan glanced up, and caught sight of the mouth that had yet to be hidden again. A rash impulse to touch it came over him. Daniel moved to lift himself, and discovered it to be more difficult than it should have been.

Rorschach noticed this. The first move was to aid Dan in standing. A second one was when he realized his bare lips had skimmed Dan's ear. Both shuddered and Rorschach promptly fixed his "face." Slinging Dan's arm over his shoulder, Rorschach practically carried the Nite Owl up the stairs and into his home.

"Here," Rorschach said when he had gotten Dan into his bed. There was a glass of water and some pain pills on the bedside table. Smiling, the brunet popped in the pills and took a sip of the water.

"Thank you," Daniel whispered, sleep beginning to creep into the edges of his voice. Rorschach spun on his heel. Dan called out, fighting to keep his eyes open now, "Wait!" His partner hesitated. Sinking into the bed, he asked, "Could you… stay… for a while?"

"You'll be asleep," Rorschach pointed out.

"Please?" Dan begged. At that, Rorschach took off his fedora, and smoothed down the back of his head. Replacing the hat, he strut over the edge of the bed.

Plunking down on the end, Rorschach stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and commanded, "Sleep…"

It didn't take long. Daniel was out soon; inhalation and exhalations were low and soft. Rorschach was watching, unthinking. Time flew without his observation. Sunlight was flittering in from the open drapes. At the faded gold beams stretching over the room, Rorschach turned to the window. He stood, stalking over to the drapes and shut them carelessly. The sleeping man sighed in his dreams. Rorschach glanced over. He walked back to the bed and halted at the side, looking down at Daniel, ink blots swimming across his face…

Dan awoke in the afternoon, the pain in his head dulled considerably. He raised his arm, feeling it lighter than last night (thankfully). Reaching for his water glass, his fingertips brushed against a piece of paper. Sitting up a little, Dan gingerly picked it up to read it. He read it a couple of times, actually, a tiny smile playing on his mouth as his eyes rested on the Rorschach symbol.

Get Well Soon…

—END—


End file.
